


A Prepared Spirit

by russian_blue



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/pseuds/russian_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenshin is the captain of a kendo club.  Kaoru is a sophomore with a crush on him.  And a big competition is coming up . . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prepared Spirit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [troisroyaumes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troisroyaumes/gifts).



_Without fear, without weakness, without hesitation._ Kamiya Kaoru repeated the motto to herself like a mantra, as if it could banish the fluttery distraction that threatened to undo all her concentration and make a fool of her in front of the one person in the world she most wanted to impress.

He was faceless in his armor and mask, but she would have recognized that stance anywhere: a relaxed, confident _waki-gamae_ that no one else in the kendō club would have tried to use outside of a kata. But when you had the reflexes of Himura Kenshin, you could get away with tricks most people would consider impossible.

She steadied her breathing, trying to focus. Kaoru had no delusions of beating Kenshin; he was a senior, and the captain of the team besides. But she desperately wanted him to think well of her. _And_ she wanted to learn -- not only as a kendōka, working to improve her sparring, but as someone who hoped to teach kendō herself some day. Not that she would have admitted it to anyone. She was only a sophomore, one of the newest members of the team, and far from the point at which she could think about teaching anybody. But she could watch Kenshin, and see how he did it.

It was a mistake, letting herself get wrapped up in such thoughts. Kenshin stamped forward without warning, shinai whipping around to strike at her right forearm. Kaoru retreated a hasty step, and then another, as he followed up with a thrust toward her throat. It was all wrong; she was off-balance in her mind, and it left her vulnerable to his attacks. She marshaled her spirit and counter-attacked, hoping the surprise of it after her retreat would at least buy her a moment of breathing space, but Kenshin slid into the gap she left and, with a loud cry, struck her firmly on the right side of her _d ō_.

And then immediately backed off two steps and asked, “Are you all right, Kaoru-dono?”

“Yes,” Kaoru answered. “It was a very good strike.” The only thing bruised was her pride.

But Kenshin wasn’t the team captain only because he was the best kendōka in the school. “You seem a little distracted.”

Not for all the world would she have admitted that he was the source of her distraction. But she had to say _something_ , and, flailing for a reason she could give without embarrassing herself to death, Kaoru found one. “I’m sorry. I keep thinking about the kendō meet.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Kenshin said -- which was very generous of him, given how she’d just performed.

“I hope so,” Kaoru said. “But the other team has such a good reputation -- it’s a little intimidating.”

Kenshin shook his head. “Don’t focus on them, Kamiya-san. Focus inward. If your spirit is prepared, then it doesn’t matter who you’re facing -- me, Nozawa-sensei, someone from another school. You will do your best.”

It was the same kind of thing Nozawa-sensei said all the time, but somehow, coming from Kenshin, the words seemed real. Her abilities wouldn’t change just because her opponent did; only her mind would. And if she was in control of her mind . . . she might still lose, but then at least it would be because the other kendōka beat her. Not because she lost.

And if she could learn to control her mind in front of Kenshin, _that_ would be a real feat. “Thank you,” she said, knowing the words were inadequate for her gratitude. “For the advice, and for agreeing to practice with me. There’s so much to learn -- I don’t feel like I’ll ever catch up to the senior students.”

Kenshin laughed. “There’s always so much to learn, isn’t there? But that’s what makes it enjoyable.”

He lowered into _sonkyo_ , and Kaoru did the same. Then they rose, retreated, and bowed to one another. Even in an informal practice like this, Kenshin always observed the proprieties -- which was more than Kaoru could say for _some_ people.

“You were terrible,” Yahiko complained when Kaoru came over to remove her armor. “Like you were going to fall on your own shinai.”

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her little brother. Kenshin was still there, unlacing his own gear, and she didn’t want to look immature. “It’s because I’ve been practicing against a terrible opponent,” she said, staring meaningfully at Yahiko.

He snorted, full of disdain as only a bratty seventh-grader could be. “ _I_ could have beaten you. Maybe if you weren’t mooning after your captain --”

 _That_ was too much to let him get away with. Kaoru pounced, getting Yahiko in a headlock and scrabbling her free hand through his hair; he yelped in horror, but couldn’t squirm free. Too late, Kaoru thought about how that must look to Kenshin -- but he was laughing, in a friendly way rather than a mean one. Once Yahiko finally squealed out a surrender, she let him go, and packed up her equipment. “Come on, let’s go. Before you embarrass me any more.”

***

“So, on a scale from ‘I’ve chewed off my fingernails’ to ‘I’m going to drop dead of a heart attack,’ how scared are you about the kendō meet?”

Kaoru meant to glare up at Sanosuke, but she suspected that between her genuine nerves and the difference in their heights, it ended up looking morose more than forbidding. “Without fear, without weakness, without hesitation -- remember?”

He grinned down at her, unrepentant, slouching his shoulders inside his white jacket. “That’s the spirit, j ō-chan. Knock ‘em over with your confidence! The sticks are only for show.”

“You great lug,” Megumi said. Her tone was disapproving, but Kaoru could read past it; the older girl was interested in Sano, and had been ever since she transferred to Kasshin High from her previous school. It wasn’t accident that the three of them always walked to and from the station together; there were other students who took the same train, who went their own way.

“No, haven’t you noticed?” Sano said. “It’s the same in karate. We don’t actually hit one another. It’s all about projecting your spirit. _Ha!_ ” He barked the kiai at full volume, even though they were in a public street, and dropped into a punch that looked more like something from a video game than actual karate.

Megumi rolled her eyes. “So you bloodied Hagiwara’s nose with your spirit? I was the one who had to patch it up, and it looked a lot like a fist had hit it.”

“I was wearing gloves,” Sano protested. “But anyway, j ō-chan, there’s nothing for you to worry about.” He sobered, his voice dropping. “Not like Kenshin.”

Kaoru’s heart beat faster. “What do you mean?”

It was Sano; he exaggerated as easily as he breathed. But the grim expression on his face right now didn’t look like exaggeration. “The captain of the other kendō team. He’s supposed to be really, really good -- and they say he’s out to _get_ Kenshin. Not just beat him, but _crush_ him.”

She thought of Kenshin’s cheerful attitude during their practice. He hadn’t said a word about this -- hadn’t looked nervous at all. But Sano was Kenshin’s best friend. If anybody would know about that kind of threat, he would.

An image rose in her mind, a faceless monster in kendō armor. “Who’s their captain?”

“Another senior. Shinomori Aoshi.”

Kaoru had gone on another five steps before she realized Megumi wasn’t with them anymore. Turning, she saw the older girl had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, one hand pressed to the front of a vending machine, the other over her mouth. “Megumi-san?”

“Sh --” Megumi stopped, swallowed visibly, and tried again. “Shinomori Aoshi?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Sano’s long legs ate the ground between them in three strides, and he bent to peer in her eyes. “You okay?”

Megumi nodded, but Kaoru didn’t entirely believe it. “You’ve heard of him, Megumi-san?”

“Heard of him . . . .” She ran her hands over her hair, straightening it even though it wasn’t disarranged. “I -- I know him. Used to know him. In junior high. But we haven’t seen each other for years.” Megumi laughed, but Kaoru knew that laugh; she was trying to sound carefree, and not quite succeeding. “He’s probably changed a lot.”

By her tone, it was impossible to tell whether change was a good thing or a bad one. “What was he like before?”

“When he was fourteen? All elbows and knees,” Megumi said breezily, walking on as if nothing was amiss. “I’m sure he’s taller than dear Ken now.”

The pet name made Kaoru grit her teeth. Megumi insisted on fawning over Kenshin whenever he was around; Kaoru could never tell whether it was sincere, or something Megumi did to annoy her. But this time, she was fairly sure, the name was meant as a distraction. This Shinomori fellow had rattled Megumi.

Kaoru had been worried about the kendō meet for her own sake, because she didn’t want to fail in her first big event. But now she was worried for Kenshin. There were fighters who took competition far too seriously. In his own way, Kenshin was one of them: friendly and light-hearted as he might be on a normal day, when he faced somebody for real, his focus was intense enough to make Kaoru shiver. What would he be like against somebody just as intense?

She tried to shake the thought, but it wouldn’t go. Troubled, she followed Megumi and Sano to the train station, her mind far from settled.

***

Kaoru didn’t have to search for Shinomori Aoshi among the arriving crowd of the Oniwa High kendō club. She spotted him instantly.

Tall, as Megumi had said, but it wasn’t the height that made him stand out; Oniwa had other guys who were taller. It was his focused air, the calm relaxation of his body -- as if he were in the middle of a kendō match. As if, for him, there wasn’t any difference between kendō and life. He carried that preparedness of spirit with him everywhere he went.

Kaoru saw him and thought, _He’s dangerous._

Not in any obvious way. He was very polite, bowing as Nozawa made the introductions between the two teams. He was even polite to Kenshin. But she looked into the cool mask of his eyes and knew he was already sizing Kenshin up, weighing him, preparing for the moment when the two of them would face each other. There was nothing for Shinomori Aoshi but that moment: everything else was irrelevant.

She bowed to him when the moment came, saying the usual phrases of welcome. Shinomori dismissed her with a nod. She didn’t matter to him; she wasn’t Himura Kenshin.

Afterward, when she and Kenshin had a moment away from the others, she asked, “What’s with the Oniwa captain? Have you two fought each other before?”

Kenshin shook his head, watching Shinomori walk away with the rest of his team. “No, never. I think I would remember if we had.”

***

Sano let out a theatrical grunt as he dropped the large box he was carrying onto a table. “Whoof! It’s way too early on a Saturday for me to be awake. But the lady here needed a strong arm, so --” He gestured at the box. “Though don’t ask me what’s baked into those cookies. Lead, maybe. They weigh a ton.”

“Keep talking,” Megumi said pleasantly, setting down her own bag. “I don’t have to give _you_ any cookies for your hard work. And move that off the table; I want to put down a cloth.”

He grumbled, but obeyed, muttering something about cruel women who would make a fellow carry a year’s worth of cookies and then not give him any. “She’s more protective of these than a mother bear with cubs,” he muttered to Kaoru, while Megumi shook out a large, brightly-colored tablecloth. “You’d think they were life-saving medicine, not snacks.”

“It’s very kind of you to bake them,” Kaoru said to Megumi, helping her with the cloth. “Even if the Oniwa captain is strange, we can at least welcome the rest of the team.”

“That’s the idea!” Megumi said brightly -- too brightly. Kaoru looked at her suspiciously, but Megumi hurried on with her work, laying out plates and napkins, then arranging the cookies in elegant displays that would soon be demolished by hungry kendōka.

Kaoru knew better than to try and help with the arranging; Megumi would only laugh at her. There were times when the older student made her feel completely inferior as a girl. She tried to imagine herself baking cookies for Kenshin, and winced. Her mother didn’t let her near the oven anymore, for good reason.

Sighing, Kaoru turned and saw Sano prying open a tupperware container that Megumi had set aside. His big hand dug inside and came out, not with a cookie, but with a rice ball. “Sano, aren’t those Megumi-san’s?” she asked, disapproving. He would eat _anything_ \-- even other people’s lunches.

Megumi whirled in a storm of black hair and lunged for Sano. “ _Don’t!_ ” she shrieked. Before the dumbfounded boy could react, she slapped the rice ball out of his hand, knocking it to the floor.

“Megumi-san!” Kaoru exclaimed. The other girl snatched the tupperware away from Sano and crammed the lid back on it, panting. It was _not_ the reaction of someone upset about a stolen lunch. “What are those?”

“Nothing,” Megumi said, putting the tupperware back in the box and flinging the lid over it. “They’re not for you.”

Kaoru thought about Megumi’s false, bright manner before, and went to the fallen rice ball before anyone else could collect it. She sniffed carefully: rice, salmon . . . and something else. Not a secret “master chef” ingredient, either: she would have bet her kendō gear on it. “Who _are_ they for? Kenshin?”

The blood drained out of Megumi’s face. No, not Kenshin; she would have laughed and needled Kaoru with something about a special treat for “dear Ken.” In which case -- “Shinomori Aoshi?”

“Huh?” Sano said, head twisting back and forth between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match. “The Oniwa guy?”

Megumi’s lips pressed into a bloodless line, and she snatched the rice ball out of Kaoru’s hand. “I’m only looking out for dear Ken.”

“By what? By _poisoning_ his opponent?”

“It isn’t poison,” Megumi said with a disdainful sniff, wrapping the ball in a napkin and putting it aside. “Just something to slow him down.”

She volunteered at the hospital; if anybody Kaoru knew could drug somebody with a rice ball, it was Megumi. “What did he _do_ to you?”

Megumi shuddered, and it looked real. “You don’t want to know, little girl. But Shinomori Aoshi is _dangerous_. This isn’t just a competition to him; it never is.”

She echoed Kaoru’s own thoughts from when the Oniwa team arrived. Still, there was no way it merited trying to drug the guy. Kaoru opened the box, took out the tupperware, and said, “I’m going to throw these away. Kenshin wouldn’t want you to do this, and you know it.”

Megumi didn’t argue. But as Kaoru picked up the wrapped ball and went to find a trash can, she saw fear in the other girl’s eyes.

***

Oniwa’s team was _good_. Several of Kaoru’s teammates went down in their first matches; she only barely squeaked through her own. But perversely, that close call settled her nerves: after that she was focused, relaxed, and having some of the best matches of her life.

As long as she was out on the floor, anyway. Off it, she watched Shinomori Aoshi obsessively -- him, and the four guys who always seemed to be around him, and also Megumi, in case she had backup rice balls hidden somewhere. And, of course, Kenshin.

She tried to warn him about Aoshi, but it fell flat without anything to back it. What did she know? That Megumi had known the guy, and was afraid of him. That he had the same kind of intensity she’d seen in Kenshin, only he had it all the time. That he wanted to beat Kenshin -- but they were the captains of opposing teams. It would be weirder if Aoshi _didn’t_ want to win.

Kenshin listened to her anyway, and nodded. “I’ll be careful, Kaoru-dono.”

It was all she could ask for. Kaoru nodded and went to comfort a teammate who had just lost. Yahiko was there, collecting the older student’s gear and putting it back in the guy’s bag, and that gave Kaoru an idea.

She looked around the gymnasium, and spotted a girl sitting a few rows up in the bleachers. She’d come with the Oniwa team, but wasn’t one of the kendōka; Kaoru bit her lip, trying to remember the girl’s name. Makimachi Misao -- that was it.

Kaoru climbed the bleachers and went over to Misao. “Excuse me -- do you mind if I sit here?”

The other girl blinked at her, then smiled. “Please do! You’re from Kasshin, aren’t you? I watched your match against Gohei. You’re very good.”

“Oh, not at all,” Kaoru demurred. “Do you watch kendō much?”

“All the time,” Misao said, her voice burning with fervent pride. “A bunch of the guys are my friends -- Hannya, Shikijō, Beshimi, and Hyottoko. Hannya’s been teaching me kenpō, but I’ll never be as good at that as Aoshi-sama is at kendō.”

Kaoru’s face heated. Oh, she recognized that tone now; she could only pray that she didn’t sound _quite_ as obviously star-struck when she talked about Kenshin. Misao wasn’t just an Oniwa student; she was infatuated with Shinomori Aoshi.

It almost made her feel bad about pumping Misao for information -- almost. “Have you known Shinomori-san for a long time?”

“Since I was little,” Misao confirmed. “I’ve been to all of his kendō meets.”

Better and better. “You know Himura Kenshin, our team captain? Has Shinomori-san ever fought him?”

Misao shook her head, abruptly sober. “Oh, no. There was one time he would have -- their schools had a meet, back in junior high -- but he had to go to Tokyo, and missed it. Aoshi-sama’s never gotten over that, so he’s been looking forward to this meet for months. He’s determined to find out who’s better, him or Himura-san.”

It explained what Sano had heard . . . but not Megumi’s fear. Unfortunately, Kaoru couldn’t exactly ask Misao whether Shinomori might do something he shouldn’t. She chatted with the other girl for a while, then hopped down and went to claim one of the few remaining cookies.

“Has Kenshin had any of these?” she asked Megumi. The other girl shook her head. “I’ll take one to him,” Kaoru said, before Megumi could offer; she picked up two and turned to look for Kenshin.

She couldn’t see him anywhere. At some point during her conversation with Misao, Kenshin had vanished.

So had Shinomori Aoshi.

It could be nothing. It probably _was_ nothing. And yet . . . .

“What is it?” Sano asked, straightening from his slouch.

Kaoru told him what Misao had said. Megumi went taut with worry the moment she mentioned Aoshi, and Yahiko drifted close to listen. When Kaoru finished, her little brother picked up his shinai -- he’d brought it, of course, even though this was a high school meet and he wouldn’t be competing; he practiced suburi and kata in a corner during off moments -- and said, “We’d better go find him.”

She opened her mouth to tell Yahiko to put the shinai down, but the words didn’t come out. Shinomori Aoshi was dangerous. She’d thought it; Megumi had said it.

Maybe it was better to be prepared.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Sano cracked his knuckles and grinned. “All right, let’s go.”

***

When they rounded the corner and found Aoshi’s four friends waiting, Kaoru was glad she’d brought her own shinai.

They were a strange bunch: one scrawny, one gangly, one huge with muscle, and one just flat-out _huge_. The gangly one saw Kaoru and the others coming and grinned like a demon mask. When he spoke, though, his voice was serious. “Nobody comes this way.”

Kaoru licked her lips, suddenly nervous. “We’re looking for Kenshin.”

“We know you are,” the grinning one said. Hadn’t Misao mentioned somebody named Hannya? It must be a nickname; give him horns, and he would look almost exactly like a _hannya_ mask. “But we can’t let you through. We have orders.”

From Shinomori Aoshi. “What are they doing?”

“Finding out who’s the strongest,” the scrawny one said in a nasal voice. He looked like a noh mask, too -- Beshimi, Kaoru guessed. The huge one was in a short-sleeved shirt, revealing a tattoo of flames she couldn’t believe he got away with in school; she pegged him as Hyottoko, leaving the muscular, scarred one to be Shikijō.

It took a moment for Beshimi’s words to sink in. “But -- the final isn’t until later today.”

“The final means nothing,” Hannya said. “Kendō is a sport, not a real fight.”

That told her everything she needed to know about what was going on past these four. Her hand tightened on the grip of her shinai. Of all the people she knew, Kenshin was the most able to defend himself -- but she couldn’t stand by while somebody attacked him for real.

And yet, what could she do? These four thugs were obviously prepared to fight. Misao had said Hannya did kenpō; Kaoru assumed the other three were equally dangerous. And all she had was her shinai: her armor was in her bag. Even the _thought_ of trying to get past Aoshi’s friends made her aware of her body’s vulnerability.

Then she remembered what Kenshin had said to her. _If your spirit is prepared, then it doesn’t matter who you’re facing._

Who -- or what. Shinai or fists; what difference did it make? They moved in different ways, sure, but the principle was the same. Look for weakness in the opponent: a weakness of body, of stance, of spirit. The moment of hesitation or fear, that would give her an opening to strike. And marshal her own spirit so there was no opening for the others to exploit.

“I understand,” Kaoru said, and turned as if preparing to leave. It allowed her gaze to skip across her three companions. Sano grinned when she met his eyes. Yahiko tightened his grip on his shinai. Megumi . . . .

Megumi’s face was bloodless, but she nodded, a tiny motion. In a very soft voice, she said, “For dear Ken.”

_Without fear, without weakness, without hesitation._

With a full-throated kiai, Kaoru spun and threw herself at Hannya.

Not until afterward did she piece together what happened around her: Yahiko charging Beshimi, Sano going fist-first at Hyottoko, Megumi pulling something from her sleeve and tossing it in Shikijō’s eyes. It was chaos and shouting, and it ended with the other three running, but in those few moments of contact, Kaoru’s world narrowed to nothing more than Hannya and her shinai.

She ran at him in a jodan stance, weapon raised high, and saw him recoil in surprise. But Hannya was good: he turned that recoil into a kick, foot lashing out to keep Kaoru at a distance. She knew it was coming even before he moved. The jodan was bait, inviting him to attack. She stepped into the shadow of his kick and brought her shinai down in a smart blow to the side of his head. Hannya managed to catch it on his shoulder, twisting away, but Kaoru flowed smoothly into a thrust at his chest.

Out of nowhere, his hand snatched at her shinai, and almost got it. What had seemed an advantage of reach was not as great as Kaoru had thought; Hannya’s arms were deceptively long, the stripes on his sleeves disguising their true extent. She folded instinctively into _waki-gamae_ , wrenching the bamboo out of his hand before he could tighten his grip. But that brought them body to body, and only a very un-kendō stamp on Hannya’s foot bought Kaoru an escape.

He pursued her with a series of kicks and punches, that Kaoru deflected with sharp strikes. One slipped through, numbing her shoulder, and for a moment her focus wavered, fear rising up to weaken her spirit.

But Kenshin needed her.

And Hannya, in stretching for that punch, had left her an opening.

She didn’t even realize she’d struck until after the pieces of her shinai clattered to the floor.

Hannya followed them a moment later, his gangly body dropping like a marionette. Kaoru, breathing hard, looked at what remained of her shinai, then at the student collapsed at her feet. Her mind replayed the final movements: Hannya, withdrawing from his punch, left arm falling just enough, and her own body turning from the force of that blow so that she was perfectly lined up for a _men_ strike.

“Oh no --” she said, but Megumi was there in an instant, checking Hannya’s pulse and eyes.

“He’ll be all right,” the older girl said. Hannya’s groan might have been agreement or argument; Kaoru couldn’t tell. “And the others are gone.”

So they were. Kaoru almost asked -- but they’d come out here for a reason, and the longer she delayed here, the more danger Kenshin would be in. Out of habit, she tried to transfer her shinai to her left side, as if concluding a match -- though she skipped _sonkyo_ , for fear her knees wouldn’t hold her -- but the broken bamboo was too short, the tip now dangling like a toy for a cat.

Her own voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Come on. We have to find Kenshin.”

***

There was no one around the corner.

Kaoru stared, not believing. Kenshin _had_ to be here. Aoshi, too. Why else would the four thugs have been in the hall? Just as a distraction? But --

“Maybe we went the wrong way,” Yahiko said uncertainly.

“ _Shhhhh_ ,” Kaoru hissed, one hand up to stop him.

She thought it was a sound. Maybe it wasn’t; maybe she just _felt_ something. But she went on silent feet to her right, to the classroom door there, and peered through the tiny window into the twilight beyond.

Kenshin and Shinomori Aoshi were inside, ringed by the desks they’d pushed aside. Not fighting -- not now -- but she could tell, from the focused relaxation of their bodies, the swift rise and fall of their shoulders, that they had been. This was just a lull, the gathering of the spirit for the next pass.

And they were holding bokken. Not the flexible bamboo of sparring, but the unyielding wood used for kata. Even with armor -- which they weren’t wearing -- it wasn’t safe.

Kaoru yanked on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. “I’ll try the window,” Yahiko said, and bolted down the hall like a squirrel. Sano shouldered Kaoru out of the way and tried the door himself, as if that would change anything, and growled when it didn’t. Kaoru, frozen, began calculating how long it would take her to run back to the gymnasium, convince Nozawa-sensei or some other adult to follow her, return to the room . . . no, she couldn’t risk it. Too slow, and Kenshin would be disgraced for private brawling, and with bokken no less.

“Step back, jō-chan,” Sano said, and raised one elbow as if he was going to try to break the window in the door.

But he stopped, staring, just short of throwing the strike. A moment later the lock clicked and the door swung open, Kenshin stepping out.

Aoshi followed him silently, walking past the rest of them like they weren’t there. Megumi pressed herself against the wall as he passed, and stayed there when he was gone.

“What happened?” Kaoru demanded, staring at Aoshi’s retreating back. “Did you beat him?” Surely not. There was no way she could have missed hearing Kenshin’s fierce kiai.

Kenshin shook his head. “Not with kendō, no.”

She blinked, confused. “Then with what?”

His answering smile was kind, and it was directed at where Aoshi had vanished around the corner. “His spirit wasn’t prepared. It took him a little while to see that, but once he did, we were done.”

“But -- doesn’t that mean he’ll just come after you again later? When he _is_ prepared?”

Kenshin looked genuinely surprised at the question. “No, of course not. He wanted to know which of us was stronger. Now he does.”

An hour ago, Kaoru might not have understood. After charging Hannya, though . . .

The strongest fighter was _always_ prepared. Kenshin, with no warning that Aoshi would be coming for him, no expectation that he’d have to fight with a bokken and without armor, had faced the challenge with perfect focus. Aoshi, with all the time in the world to prepare, had not. It meant more than any number of hits ever could.

Kaoru poked Kenshin in the shoulder, hard, as if that would vent the tension suddenly released. “Don’t you ever do that to us again! We were worried sick about you!”

He goggled at the broken shinai in her hand. “Kaoru-dono -- what happened?”

Should she tell him? Yes, before Yahiko got there first. Remembering her little brother, Kaoru glanced into the darkened classroom, and saw a shadow moving against one of the windows, looking for one that was unlocked.

“Come on,” she said, leading Kenshin back to the gymnasium. “I saved some cookies for you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wasn’t going to write a modern kendo club AU, because what I know about kendo would fit into a thimble with room to spare. But everything else I thought up kept going in directions that seemed too dark, and so finally I decided it was better to go with what you’d asked for, and hope I could do it something resembling justice.
> 
> Once I bit that particular bullet, it was obvious there had to be a competition, and it was a lot easier to make Aoshi the other team’s captain than to try and fit Shishio’s psychosis into this framework. For a little while there I toyed with the notion of trying to make the fic a full-bore retelling of the Kanryuu arc, but I couldn’t figure out how to translate the Gatling gun into high school terms -- which is probably for the best. :-)
> 
> I welcome any and all corrections, especially on kendo matters.


End file.
